Beneath the Tombstone (The Tombstone Series) (11 page)

Knowing
that Jason was still there and saw the whole thing, without turning, she stuck
a hand in the air, wiggled her fingers like a little kid, and chirped,
“Goodbye.” Jason took the hint and left without saying a word.

As he exited the jail house, Jason
saw that the morning traffic was beginning to slack off a bit, now that
everyone’s rush to work was about over. Without having to wait for an opening
in traffic, he led the way across Main Street, Susan following close behind.
Jason’s truck came into sight. Unfortunately, his vehicle wasn’t the only
familiar one he saw.

“They’re
already here?” Jason heard Susan ask, speaking of her parents, in spite of the
fact that there they were, standing by their car, right in front of her.

Susan’s
mother turned and saw her daughter. “Oh Susan,” she cried out in a voice that
was filled with the sorrow of one daughter missing, mixed with the happiness of
the other one present. She rushed forward and wrapped her daughter in a hug.
Susan’s father walked up and, as always, he moved and spoke much more calmly
than his wife. He waited patiently until Susan was finished being smothered by
her mother, then just quietly stepped forward, put his arm around his daughter
and said, “Don’t worry. We’re
gonna
find her,
sweetheart.”

“Yes,
we are,” Jason declared with confidence. The fact that no one even turned to
look at him made Jason realize that, in their minds, he was not included in
“we.” Talk about feeling awkward. He just stood off by himself, as they
discussed how to best save his wife, with no idea what to do. Trying to join in
the conversation had been to no avail, standing there just made him feel like a
big fool, and turning to leave would be a sign of accepting defeat.

Several
minutes ticked by and still no one seemed to have become aware of Jason’s
presence. He knew that they knew he was there. There were just giving him the
silent treatment, and it was making him just a bit annoyed. They could at least
try to understand what he was going through.

Finally,
growing tired of the masquerade, Jason said, “Look, I know you are all
disappointed in me, but you don’t have to…”

“Oh
no, Jason,” Susan’s mother cut him off abruptly, “we’re not disappointed in you
at all.” She straightened Susan’s necklace. “You see, for someone to be
disappointed, they must first have some expectations.” Only then did she turn
and look at him. “And we never expected much out of you in the first place.” It
was at that moment, Jason remembered… he preferred the silent treatment.

“Look,”
he spoke, “I’ve got better things to do than stand around here and be insulted.
Susan’s car is at my house.” He fixed his attention on his sister-in-law. “Are
you ready to go get it?” he demanded.

Before
she had a chance to reply, her father turned, squaring up to Jason. Speaking
quietly, but leaving no question as to who was in charge, he said, “She’s with
us now. We’ll take care of her.” It was more the way he said it than the fact
he said it at all that bothered Jason. His father-in-law made it sound like
Jason was incapable of taking care of a dog, much less one of his daughters.

Jason
opened the door of his pickup and climbed in, sitting for a moment, relieved to
finally be free from the harsh judgment of his in-laws. As he reached over to
slide the key into the ignition, something caught his attention. A small
envelope was sticking out of the thin gap between the dash and radio. Jason
gave a little huff and shook his head. It had to be from Susan; both she and
Misty had the habit of writing a note when they couldn’t figure out how to say
what they needed to say in person. She must have slipped out to his truck and
placed the note while he was being interrogated by the sheriff.

Jason
anxiously plucked the envelope from its spot. A short time earlier, Susan had
taken verbal assault to a whole new level and seemed to have left nothing
unsaid, so he was very curious to see what the letter read. Jason turned the
envelope over several times in his hand. There was no writing on the outside of
it. All the more intrigued, he broke the seal and pulled out a folded piece of
paper. Unfolding it revealed a typed note. Strange. Any letter or note that
Susan had ever sent to Misty had always been hand-written. The sisters said it
was more personal that way. Oh well… maybe she was beginning to embrace the
computer age.

Jason
began reading.

Dear
Jason,

I
have been thinking a lot about you since last night. I see the despair in your
eyes and know how much your wife means to you.
She is safe – I know that because I have her. If you
want her back, you must first prove you are worthy. You must climb into the
sunlight at the top of the Tombstone, a rock bluff that runs up the north face
of the Royal Gorge, close to the expansion bridge. Go up the original route. No
practice runs. This must occur on your birthday before the sun sets.

P.S.
No ropes. For her to be set free, you must climb free. If you survive and
succeed, she will go free. If you fail and fall to your death, she will go
free. The only way she will not be set free is if you refuse to try.

Jason’s
heart hammered against his ribcage as he sat spellbound in his truck. This
letter was from Misty’s kidnappers. Climb on his birthday? That was almost a
month away. From the bottom of the Royal Gorge to the top was – well, Jason had
no idea – but certainly a long way. Without a rope? And he was terrified of
heights. He loved Misty but, wow, that sounded more like suicide than a rescue
mission.

Jason’s
in-laws were pulling out onto Main Street when his mind came back to the cab of
his truck. For a moment, he thought about flagging them down but never made a
move to do so. After the way they treated him, he was in no mood to share any
kind of information with any of them. Instead, he pulled out his phone, snapped
a picture of the note, placed it back into the envelope, put his keys in his
pocket, locked both doors and made sure the windows were rolled up before
heading back into the police station to give them the letter. Now, at least, he
had something with which to convince Sheriff Victor of his innocence.

The
sheriff was at his desk as Jason approached with a triumphant look in his eyes.
“See what you make of that,” Jason said in a tone that called into question the
sheriff’s competence as a lawman.

Victor
looked up at Jason over a pair of horn-rimmed glasses as he picked up the
envelope that had been placed before him and removed the note. After a few
moments of reading it, he began to frown.

“See,
I told you I was innocent,” Jason said, sounding more like a little kid’s
I
told you so
than a grown man trying to find his wife.

The
sheriff remained silent for a few moments more then began to speak slowly.
“This letter does several things… but there’s one thing that it most certainly
doesn’t do.” He looked up at Jason. “It doesn’t prove anyone’s innocence. This
letter was typed not written. No signature – No
nothin
’.
Anyone could have written it… including you,” he concluded, his gaze hardening.

“Why
would I write a letter telling myself to go do something that would most likely
get me killed?” Jason asked in a condescending voice.

“I
have no idea,” replied Sheriff Victor, unaffected by Jason’s tone. “Why would
you roll around in a dark alley at night and tear your clothes up?” He leaned
back in his chair, not seeming to be the least bit concerned as he added,
“We’ll keep the note to see if we might can get some DNA off of it or
somethin
’.” He paused for a moment. “You
should’a
told me what it was before I touched it. Now that
we’ve both had our hands on it, the chances of getting a lead off of it are
pretty slim.” He paused and sighed. “We’ll try though.”

Jason
shoved down the irritation that threatened to bring some wise-crack out of his
mouth and do further damage to the slim chance that he had of getting any kind
of cooperation from the sheriff. As bad as he hated it, Jason knew that he
needed a line of open communication with the law or he would lose touch with
the case all-together. Susan and her parents were leaving him out of the loop,
and he didn’t know who he would turn to for information or help if he
completely burned down the bridge between himself and the sheriff.

“Sorry
about that,” Jason said, trying to sound like he was truly apologizing.
“Anything on the guys I described for Jenny?”

“Yes,”
the sheriff replied. “We’ve identified your attacker.”

Jason’s
heart felt like it was trying to leap out of his ribcage. Maybe now they were
finally getting somewhere! “And?” he asked excitedly, wondering what had been
discovered.

“And
I’m afraid that information is classified,” Victor replied flatly.

“Are
you serious?” Jason asked, like that was the most absurd thing he’d ever heard.
His posing as a humble friend days were over. “The law forbids you to give
information on a kidnapped wife to her husband?”

“Giving
you information would be too much of a liability in this case,” the sheriff
said calmly. “There’s always the concern that you’d go vigilante on us and try
to catch the guy yourself… if you’re telling the truth, that is,” he added as
an afterthought.

“So
you think that I’m telling the truth?” Jason asked, and a twinge of hope made
him stand a bit more erect.

“No,”
Sheriff Victor replied flatly, “but as an officer of the law, I must consider
every possibility… no matter how impossible that possibility may be.” He then
returned to his paperwork, leaving Jason standing there, feeling very awkward,
unsure of what to do or say.

“Um,
well, thanks anyways… I guess,” Jason sighed, feeling frustrated.

“Oh
no, thank you, Jason,” the sheriff said without looking up as he stapled a
stack of papers together.

Thank
you? What would Sheriff Victor be thanking him for? Jason wasn’t sure why he
was finding it so annoying but, regardless, it was still annoying. Maybe that
was the sheriff’s only intent… to make him worry.

Jason
stepped outside and stood for a moment. He was coming to realize something; he
was alone… completely, utterly alone. No family. No friends. No one to help
sort through this mess. He began scanning through his recent calls for Dr.
Throckmorton’s number. Even if the doctor was not a friend or family, maybe
he’d be willing to meet.

He
found the number and pressed the call button. It rang several times before
going to voicemail. Jason let out a big sigh as he put the phone back in his
pocket. His last resource had failed. It seemed that even a psychiatrist didn’t
want anything to do with this much crazy.

As
Jason stepped out into the street, he felt his phone begin vibrating against
his leg moments before it began to ring. He looked at the number. Yes! It was
Tomas. Trying to pull himself together a bit and contain his excitement, he
opened the phone.

“Hey
Tomas,” he greeted, giving an unexcited voice his best shot. “Thanks for
calling me back.” He sighed. “I, um, I just have a lot of questions floating
around in my head, and since, you know, you’re the expert on heads, I was
hoping to, um, meet and chat with you again.”

“Sure
Jason,” the doctor replied. “Whatever I can do to help. I didn’t sleep much
last night thinking about what happened at the park and the part I played in it
all. I will do everything I can do to help you Jason… free of charge.”

“Thanks
Tomas,” Jason said, and as he spoke he felt a warmth began to grow on the
inside. Finally – someone who understood and cared. If Jason didn’t know
better, he would have thought he was about to cry, but that couldn’t be. He’d
given that up long ago.

“I
tell you what,” Jason continued, forcing a steady voice, “how about I buy you a
cup of coffee. Where’s your favorite coffee shop and when do you want to meet?”
Jason was holding his breath, waiting for an answer.
Please let it be soon.
Please let it be soon.

“That
little place on Main Street is fine. Let’s see, I think it’s called Solar Roast
Coffee; they actually use the sun to roast coffee.” He paused, as if realizing
he was getting off subject. “And anytime will work for me,” he added.

Jason
wanted to lift his hands and shout “halleluiah.” He had his meeting and, though
it was a small note at the moment, he loved that coffee house and the homegrown
ingenuity it took to create a coffee roaster using only the sun and mirrors.
“That would be great,” he spoke, trying to contain his excitement. “Um, anytime
would work for me, too.” Jason wanted to slap himself. No, anytime wouldn’t
work. “Now, um, now would be best,” he said, knowing how pathetically helpless
he sounded.

“Give
me fifteen minutes, and I’ll be there,” the doctor promised.

- - - - - -

The
door swung open, causing Jason to look up anxiously from his table, like he’d
done possibly twenty times before, in hopes of seeing the doctor enter. Nope.
Not unless the doctor had morphed into a young woman overnight. He let out a
big sigh. What on earth could be taking that doctor so long? They had agreed on
fifteen minutes. That had been – Jason lit up his phone to see how much time
had elapsed since their conversation – seventeen minutes ago! Something must
have happened!

His
mind began to do the snowball effect. What if the kidnappers had bugged Jason’s
phone? What if there was a clue that Jason and the doctor could piece together
between them, and the bad guys overheard their plans to meet and talk and
decided to kidnap the doctor, too? Or worse yet, kill him!

Knowing
the doctor was his last hope, Jason pulled out his phone but wasn’t sure if he
should call the doctor or the police. The doctor! Check to see if he’s okay.
Jason’s mind was in overdrive and the little snowball was bringing down an
avalanche of possibilities in his mind as he pushed the little green button…
with a phone shape on it… the one for calling people… then pushed it again and
again. It wasn’t going through! The kidnappers must have turned the doctor’s
phone off!

Jason
kept punching the call button, time and time again, until finally a firm hand
was placed upon his shoulder. He yelped like a frightened puppy and jumped
sideways in his chair, turning, trying to face his “attacker.” It was the
doctor.

“Tomas?”
Jason asked in a bewildered tone.

The
doctor stood stunned in silence for several seconds before stammering, “Um,
yes. Who were you expecting? The bogeyman?” The doctor’s phone began to ring.
Without dropping his bewildered gaze from Jason, he pulled the phone from his
pocket and placed it to his ear. “Hello, this is Dr. Throckmorton,” he spoke.
“Hello?” he spoke again. It seemed that no one was there. After a moment, the
doctor took the phone from his ear and looked at it. “Jason,” he spoke with a
question in his tone, “why are you calling me?”

Jason
somehow scrapped the fragments of his scattered brain back together and began
looking for his phone. There it was… under the table where he had apparently
discarded it in the midst of all the chaos. He retrieved it, hanging up before
saying, “Sorry,” in a tone that showed how badly he wished everyone in the cafe
would quit staring at him. They acted like they’d never seen someone get caught
off guard before. “I was calling to check on you. You were running late.”

“By
two minutes,” Tomas exclaimed after looking at his watch.

“I
was afraid something had happened to you,” Jason argued defensively.

“What
could go wrong in two minutes?” Tomas asked, still bewildered.

Jason
thought back on the previous night. From the time that he’d meet the three guys
in the park until they had dragged his wife away from him was probably about
two minutes. “A lot,” he replied.

Tomas
nodded his head in understanding. “Anyways,” he said, breaking past the
awkwardness in their conversation. “I am buying. What would you like?”

Jason
started to argue, but the doctor was already standing and, to tell the truth,
it felt good to have someone showing signs of kindness. He turned and gazed at
the menu for a few seconds. He had been so worried about the doctor being late
that he had forgotten to decide on what to drink.  “Just a cup of coffee,”
he sighed, turning back the doctor. “Doesn’t matter what. All the coffee’s good
here… and thanks,” he added.